Regnum Defende
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Ruth and Harry are about to be tested to the limit. Post 9.8 fic. There will be some violence but not more than you'd see on the show.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm sad to announce that my fluffability seems to have disappeared and now I seem to be on a one way train to angstville. I think we all might have to brace ourselves with this one, it's not for the faint hearted. **

**I'm going to give the short chapters' thing a whirl to try and keep the pace up. Let's hope it works *crosses fingers*.**

**This fic is dedicated to OldMule whose fic 'Kept in the Dark' got me thinking. **

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><p>It's late by the time she pushes through the door to the flat and dumps her bag on the floor in the hallway. She doesn't bother flicking the light on, able to navigate her way to the bathroom by familiarity. Ruth has been dreaming of a steaming hot bubble bath since before she set foot off the Grid. She sets the taps running and dumps a generous amount of fragrant bubble bath in telling herself that she deserves to pamper herself a little bit. It has been a <em>long<em> day. One made insufferably longer thanks to the handful of Internal Affairs officers that have swamped the Grid ever since Harry was suspended. Her day to day job has suddenly gone from being hard work to being nigh on impossible to do as someone questions every single thing she does. The past few weeks have been hard on everyone but not everyone has to endure the harsh stares and glances of mistrust that she is putting up with. It's come to something when she is actually jealous of Beth and Dimitri for being out in the field on an operation. She feels bad about it as she knows they'll be putting their lives in danger but she can help but think how nice it must be to not have IA breathing down their necks every two minutes. Even Tariq has managed to get himself off the Grid and on to a training course away from the scrutiny of ever watchful eyes.

She sighs heavily and watches the steam rise invitingly from the water as she reaches up and scrapes her hair up in to a messy ponytail. Her fingers fumble trying to free the hair bobble stashed on her wrist and she curses under her breath. Her expletive is cut off mid utterance as a strong arms closes over her neck, she feels herself being pulled to one side and knocked off balance. She freezes, panic and fear clouding her ability to think and by the time she's thought to struggle, to scream and claw her way to freedom another hand has pressed something against her face. She tries not to breathe in, knowing how futile it is and as the horrible taste at the back of her mouth registers the darkness seeps in. Less than a minute later her limp, unconscious body is carried out of the flat and she is thrown, unceremoniously, into the back of a transit van.

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><p><strong>A review would be lovely. Even if it's just to tell me off!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**An update already, go me!**

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><p>Harry winces slightly as he wanders in to the kitchen holding his shoulder. He flexes it again, carefully, and rues the day he decided to tackle his monstrously overgrown shrub patch. Quickly diagnosing it as nothing more than a pulled muscle he crosses to the medicine cupboard and rustles about until he finds a tube of deep heat. His nose wrinkles in distaste at the overpowering smell that assaults his nostrils as he unscrews the cap but her reasons that as he feels like a geriatric he might as well smell like one.<p>

He's about to squeeze some of the ointment on to his fingers when a flicker of movement registers in his peripheral vision. He tenses, instantly alert, and can feel the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stand on end. Slowly, and carefully, he places the tube back on the work top and sees through the reflection in the microwave his would be attacker approach. He waits, holding his nerve, biding his time until the masked man comes within striking distance. When the time comes, he moves swiftly, punching his assailant with all his might. Harry presses home his advantage as his assailant staggers backwards, the wind knocked out of him. He swings his fist out again, fuelled by anger and adrenalin, prepared to fight to the death.

The kick to the back of his leg comes from nowhere and Harry screams in pain as he feels something snap with the force of it. He stumbles forward, clumsily, trying not to fall over, and scans the vicinity for something to use as a weapon. His hand grabs at a kitchen chair but it is viscously out of his grasp seconds before a fist lands on his jaw. He tastes blood in his mouth, the coppery tang as unwelcome as the sudden ringing in his ears. He staggers, unable to gain his stability properly thanks to his injured leg, and has no way of avoiding the fist that is now flying towards his face again. It's his nose this time and the sickening crunch of bone is followed by the warm rush of blood as it drips down his face. The third punch, mercifully, knocks him clean out.

His battered and bloodied body is dragged, carelessly, across the wooden floor and out the back door. Strong arms wrap around his limbs and carry him the rest of the way before he is slung in to the back of a transit van alongside an unconscious Ruth.

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><p><strong>Yikes, what have I done? <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for all your kind reviews so far, they mean a lot :-)**

**I have quite a lot of this fic written in note form, so every time I get a spare half hour I plan to type some of it up and post to keep the updates fairly regular. Here's hoping!  
><strong>

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><p>The pain wakes him from what he quickly deduces was an unwanted bout of unconsciousness. Is eyes flicker as he struggles to acclimatise his vision to the gloom of the cold and dank room he is in. He grits his teeth and tries to sit up only to find himself nauseous and dizzy from the excruciating waves of pain that radiate from his leg. He rapidly returns to his prone position against the cold concrete floor, fists clenching against the pain. He concentrates hard on laying still; his panting seems to reverberate around the walls and despite the chill from the floor he can feel sweat rolling down his face.<p>

He waits until he no longer feels like throwing up before opening his eyes again. He takes a deep, calming breath and tries to focus his mind away from the pain in his leg. It takes all of his might to block it out for a few minutes whilst he takes an inventory of the rest of his body. A weary hand flutters lightly over his face and confirms the broken nose and swollen left eye that he suspected he would find. His fingers trace his jaw line which, although aching, does not appear to be broken; something he is thankful for. The rest of his body appears to be fine, his back aches and his backside is numb, which he suspects is from the cold floor, but that's nothing he can't cope with. The real worry is his leg, from his position on the floor he can see very little but from the level of pain he is in he dares to hazard that he's sporting a rather nasty fracture. He realises that any chance of escape is going to be severely limited due to this and can only hope that someone, somewhere, realises that he is missing before too long. He tries not to linger on the thought that perhaps no-one will care. Not now that he's waiting to be pushed out in to the cold.

"Focus, Harry," he mumbles to himself, angry for being maudlin when he needs his wits about him.

Injuries catalogued he moves his attention to his surroundings. Hoping to glean whatever information he can and use it to his advantage where necessary. There is a solitary light bulb hanging limply from the ceiling which emits a pitiful glow and Harry is quick to work out that although most of the room is in shadow there isn't a lot for him to see. Squinting hard, and breathing heavily from the exertion of merely lifting his head from the floor, he can just about make out a limp plastic mattress in the far corner of the room. The only other thing of not is the door which looks frighteningly solid and far away from where he is laid. He lays his head back down on the floor and closes his eyes. He has learnt very little. Now all he can do is wait.

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><p><strong>One little review, please?<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Typing v quickly before I have to go to bed as I'm up at stupid o'clock tomorrow. Probably loads of typos so apologies in advance! **

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><p>The first thing she notices when she regains consciousness is the horrible taste in her mouth and the fuzziness in her head. The second thing she notices is that she is freezing cold. Shuffling herself into an upright position she sets about rubbing her hands over her arms and legs in a bid to generate some warmth. She is grateful for the fact that she is wearing jeans. She's not normally someone who wears them for work but as denim seemed to offend the IA supervisor most she's taken to wearing them more often than not. In the cold, lonely reality of a makeshift cell her one-upmanship seems a bit petty; she is glad of the extra warmth and comfort though.<p>

As some of the fuzziness wears off and her mind begins to sharpen she looks around the room and notes with grim understanding that there is very little for her to see. She has a single, plastic coated mattress, which she supposes is better than being on the concrete, and nothing else. The door looks secure from where she is but she can't help the urge to get up and try it. There is a momentary flash of hope when the door rattles in its frame as she pushes on it but it doesn't last long. Ruth soon realises that it is locked and unlikely to give way to her feeble attempts to shove it open. Defeated she returns to her place on the mattress and tries to piece together what happened to her.

She's been kidnapped, that much is obvious, but why or who by she has no idea. Something about this situation feels terrifyingly different and it takes her a few moments to realise why. In the past, when something like this has happened to her, there has always been something current, an operation or intelligence that has unwittingly led her in to danger; now though there is nothing. Ever since Internal Affairs arrived she has been given the most mundane, low level tasks to do and has not been allowed to participate in any live operations. She also realises, with something akin to horror, that there is no team searching for her. Beth and Dimitri are on an operation and Tariq is on a course in Manchester. And Harry…well, Harry's not there anymore either. The best she can hope for is that one of her not-so-friendly- IA colleagues notices her absence and raises the alarm. Presuming, of course, that they don't think she's done a midnight flit.

There is nothing she can do now but wait.

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><p><strong>You know you want to leave a review…<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

***Violence and swearing alert***

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><p>By the time they come for him Harry has lost all concept of time. The sound of the door opening disturbs him from a fitful sleep and as his eyes adjust to the room again there is a fleeting moment where he thinks he must be dreaming as men wearing Tony Blair rubber masks file into his room. Any notion of it being a dream is shattered when hands grab roughly at him and he's hauled, unceremoniously, out of his cell. He is grateful for the fact that they don't make him walk; instead he's half carried, half dragged through a dark corridor and into an interrogation room. He's thrown, none to gently, onto an uncomfortable wooden chair and winces against the bright light that is now shining straight into his eyes.<p>

The door behind him closes with a bang making him jump and it takes him a minute to realise that his masked guards have left him there. For a moment he thinks he might be alone but then a movement in the shadows behind where the light is coming from catches his attention. His hand automatically reaches up to shield his eyes and he squints hard trying, unsuccessfully, to see who is lurking in the shadows.

"We both know you can't see me, Mr Pearce," says a soft, cultured voice, whoever it is has worked hard to get rid of an accent, "but I can see you. You don't look so good, I have to say."

"I've been better," he replies, voice rough from lack of use.

"Your leg is very painful." The voice tells him, unnecessarily. "I'm sorry that it had to be that way."

"Are you?" Harry mumbles, unimpressed.

"I'm a civilised man, Mr Pearce, I don't care much for violence but, sometimes, one simply doesn't have a choice. My men were a little over zealous with you; I apologise. Rest assured, they've been chastised."

"What do you want?" He's bored already with the good cop routine. He doesn't want to play nice and make friends with whoever this is and is under no illusions that his captor will stay pleasant with him.

"We had a recent transaction, you and I, and, although we never met, I trusted you to deliver the goods. You didn't repay that trust, Mr Pearce, instead you tried to palm me off with a fake. I didn't take kindly to that." Harry can hear the displeasure in the other man's voice and, not for the first time, curses Lucas for getting him embroiled with Albany and the Chinese. "I don't like being humiliated, nor do the people I work for. Who else knows that it was a fake?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replies, defiantly.

"I don't think you want to play this game with me, Harry," the voice drawls, "you won't win. Tell me about Albany. Tell me who else knows about it and you just might get out of this alive."

Face set in grim determination Harry sit's in silence.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you leave me little choice."

Harry braces himself as the door behind him opens again. He knows what's coming and uses every ounce of strength he has to block out the pain as hands grasp his shoulders and pin him to the back of the chair. The light is blocked momentarily as one of the henchmen moves in front of him and delivers a hard punch to his stomach. It's followed quickly by downward strike to the top of his injured leg and he's unable to stop the yell of pain that tumbles from his mouth or the vomit the follows swiftly afterwards.

"Enough for now, take him back to his cell," commands the man in charge before turning his attention back to Harry, "It will only get worse, Harry. Tell me now and save yourself a lot of pain."

Harry spits the bile and vomit out of his mouth and watches it land on the shoes of the man who punched him. "Fuck you," he says, smiling, "with bells on."

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><p><strong>If you're not ready to kill me I'd love a review!<strong>

**Had to put the Tony Blair masks in as I think they're mega creepy and would imagine that in a hostage situation the last thing you'd want to see is Tony Blair's ugly mug grinning at you *shudders*.**

**Also couldn't resist the last line from Harry, it's one of my favourite Harry quotes!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Oh dear, my notes for this chapter merely consists of the line 'Ruth's turn'…I've had to wing it slightly!**

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><p>She doesn't like the masks. Of all the things to be going around her head as she's propelled through a dingy corridor by two burly men in Tony Blair joke masks, she has picked the masks to focus on. They remind her of the 'Spitting Image' puppets and, secretly, she's always been a bit scared of those. She's almost relieved to be ushered in to an interrogation room and left to fend for herself. The light shining at her is painfully uncomfortable but she refuses to give in to the temptation to squirm against it. The room smells odd, a mixture of disinfectant and what she thinks might be vomit, and instantly she realises that someone else has been interrogated in here very recently. She should think about that and try and use the information to her advantage but her mind is stuck on a myriad of things that might have been done to someone to cause them to throw up. Fear gnaws away at her insides and, as she catches movement amongst the shadows, she steels herself for what she is about to go through. Ruth makes a decision there and then to say nothing at all and wills herself to be strong enough to see it through.<p>

Every time her interrogator speaks she analyses what he says and files it away for later use. He tries to build a rapport with her, to apologise for her being inconvenienced. He tells her not to be frightened, that he will make sure she's protected as long as she co-operates. She says nothing, keeps her poker face intact and inwardly calls him a lying bastard. Her silence frustrates him and she has to fight hard not to betray a smile when she can hear it in his voice. He asks her about Lucas North, relentless questions about him and his past. He asks about her kidnap at Lucas' hands and appears very interested to know what they spoke about, what his reasons for holding her were. She knows, before he asks her, that this is about Albany. What she hasn't worked out yet is why.

She remains silent, using the time to work things through as much as she can but she knows that her energy is waning. She's tired, mentally and physically drained. The thought crosses her mind that she needs something to eat and drink and almost as if he can read her thoughts he asks if she is thirsty.

"No."

The answer is out before she can think to stop it and she curses herself for it. He knows it's a lie, they both do, and his voice in almost triumphant as he purrs, "Come, Ruth, I'm not a barbarian, I'll get us some water."

The door behind her opens less than a minute later and a jug of ice cold water and two glasses are set down on the table in front of her. She can see droplets of water running down the outside of the jug and she makes the mistake of wondering what they would feel like on her tongue. The man who brought the jug in pours some of the water into a glass and she watches it as it trickles slowly from one container to the other. He leaves it on the desk and stands to the side of her chair leaving the glass and jug fully in her view.

"Talk to me, Ruth," he captor says, encouragingly, "talk to me and it's all yours."

She works hard to remove her gaze from the table and when she does she stares in to the light defiantly. "I'm not that desperate."

He laughs, menacingly, "You will be."

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><p><strong>Hmm, I think Ruth got off a bit more lightly than Harry did, for now... It has made me thirsty though lol!<strong>

**A review is always appreciated :-)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all the lovely, encouraging reviews. They really are keeping me writing.I've been trying to update but the site kept going wonky *mutters*, hopefully it's sorted itself out now.**

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><p>He's in bad shape. There's no real getting away from the fact that the pain has become so bad that he can't concentrate on anything else. He's fairly certain that he passed out somewhere between the interrogation room and his cell as he has no recollection of the return trip. He's sweating profusely; despite the cold and as a series of shivers begin to wrack his body he wonders how long he will last in his current condition.<p>

He takes as deep a breath as he dares to, the lack of water has made him thirsty and prone to coughing which, in his state, is an excruciating experience. He knows from bitter experience that before long his mind will start to play tricks on him, the dehydration and exhaustion will mix with the pain and he will start to lose himself in it. He can only hope that he finds the strength from somewhere to remain true to what he believes in.

Harry works hard to hide the dread that fills him as the door opens and his masked captors enter the room. The dread quickly morphs in to fear as his eyes lock on the man closest to him. He watches with barely concealed horror as he fills a large syringe with liquid from a vial and then walks towards him.

"No," he shouts, swinging his arms out and trying to sit up at the same time, "no."

Both men surge forward, one grabs a hold of Harry's flailing arms and pushes him back flat against the thin plastic mattress as the other plunges the needle in to his arm and pumps the drug into Harry's bloodstream. Strong arms hold him firmly against the floor as his body spasms and his mind begins to cloud over. His resistance is futile, it takes less than thirty seconds for his eyes to close and his body to go limp.

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><p><strong>*hides*<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the delay, I've been away for a couple of days. **

**Huge thanks for the lovely reviews, keep them coming, they encourage me to write more!**

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><p>She no longer has any concept of time. She hasn't seen any natural light in what feels like weeks. She's tired and hungry and so very very thirsty. She's back in the interrogation room, holding it together as best she can, hoping that she can hold out until help arrives. She still has some hope, it's all she has left to cling to.<p>

He knows it too.

"There's no-one coming for you, Ruth. You know that don't you?" croons her tormentor, softly. "No-one who cares enough to notice you're not at your desk where you should be." He pauses, letting the silence stretch endlessly on, waiting for her to fill it. He watches her stare at a fixed point on the wall to the side of him; chin raised defiantly as she determinedly refuses to answer. "_He's_ not there anymore, is he?" She knows without thinking about it who he's referring to but he clarifies it for her anyway, "You're knight in shining armour."

His voice takes on a smug tone and she imagines a reptilian like smile is wending its way across his face. "Yes, I know all about him. Lucas was very forthcoming about that," his voice lowers to a mocking whisper, "such sacrifice, such devotion…"

_Such love_, she thinks, mentally correcting him, _not that you'd understand_.

"It's not too late, you know, for you and Harry," he presses on, urgently, "It can all be arranged. New country, new identities; a new life together. You don't owe MI-5 anything. Think about what they've done to you, to Harry, they don't deserve your loyalty anymore."

A flicker of a smile quirks her lips briefly which does not go unnoticed and her tormentor is quick to press home his advantage. "Yes, think about yourself for once. You can have anything you want, go anywhere in the world and you never have to look back. That sounds good, doesn't it?"

"It's not who I am," she says, evenly, in a bid to shut him up.

"You can be anyone you want to be, Ruth. Don't be a martyr. Do you really think they'd protect _you_ as fiercely? You're expendable. An analyst who's turned out to be more trouble than she's worth. Useless in the field, an operational liability and responsible for the fall from grace of one of the most senior ranking intelligence officers." His words cut through her like a knife, swiping away layer after layer of the façade she has erected to protect her from this very thing. "Little wonder they've left you here to rot."

Ruth bites down hard the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that she can feel burning the back of her eyes. She's exhausted, both mentally and physically, and she's starting to lose the urge to fight. She shakes her head vigorously, trying to block out his voice as he carries on relentlessly.

"They deserted you, Ruth. Left you here all alone, tired, aching, thirsty. You can end it all so easily. Put yourself out of your misery and talk to me."

The silence stretches on endlessly, weighing on her shoulders oppressively until she can't take it any longer. Her head drops in shame, shoulders sagging as she whispers, brokenly, "What do you want to know?"

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><p><strong>Oh Ruthie, what have you done? :O<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**A super-fast update for you because you're all so blumming lovely and I'm in a chirpy mood.**

**This carries straight on from the last chapter.**

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><p>"Tell me about Albany, Ruth," he commands.<p>

She nods. "Yes, Ok," she hesitates, warring with herself about divulging what she knows.

"Would you like a drink, first, Ruth?" he says, congenially, sensing her dilemma.

"Yes," she says, gratefully, "yes please."

It only takes a moment for the door behind her to open admitting one of the guards carrying a pitcher of water and a glass. He pours her a glass and hands it to her. She guzzles it greedily, draining the glass and then running her tongue over her lips to catch any errant droplets. She thinks it might be the most wonderful thing she has ever tasted.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"You can have some more when we've talked a little." The guard takes the glass from her hand and places it back on the table in front of her.

She nods again. "Ok."

"I want to know about Albany," he directs, "the _real_ one."

Ruth can feel the adrenalin surge through her veins as she contemplates what she is about to do. She can feel her hands and knees trembling but knows she has no choice now but to go through with it. "All I know," she begins, as calmly as possible, "is that it's a secret." She lifts her head and smiles as beautifully as she can manage, "and I intend to ensure it remains one."

In the silence that follows the only thing she can hear is the hammering of her heart.

His voice is cold and menacing when he finally speaks from the shadows. "You're bravery is admirable but misplaced Miss Evershed. There will be consequences for your little display."

"I don't doubt it," she replies, forcing emotion out of her voice.

"Oh, it won't be for you," he says, voice sickeningly sweet once more, "it'll be Harry who bears the brunt of it."

"Harry?" she says, weakly, mouth suddenly dry and heart pounding again.

"He and I are going to have some fun," he says, laughing.

"Take her back to her cell." Strong hands grip her arm and she feels herself pulled upwards and dragged out of the interrogation room. Thoughts whirring she allows herself to be pulled along the corridor and then she does the only thing she can think of and starts shouting his name at the top of her voice, hoping beyond hope that somehow he can hear her. She uses her feet to brace against the wall of the corridor, refusing to budge and screams for Harry as loud as she can. She's wants him to know she is there. That he's not alone. There's a struggle as strong arms wrap around her small frame and she claws and bites at anything she can to stop them from moving her. In the end though she's no match for brute force and she's carried, kicking and screaming the rest of the way. She's thrown into the cell with such finality that she stumbles and strikes her face on the concrete as she lands in a heap on the floor. She lies there, breathing heavily, face throbbing and tries to come to terms with everything that's just happened. She smiles softly to herself as she realises two things; one, whatever Harry gave away to protect her was a fake and two; she's not alone and never has been. Harry, _her Harry_, is here somewhere.

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><p><strong>Make me smile, leave a review!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**This fic will not leave me alone. I was even dreaming about it last night! Perhaps that's my subconscious telling me to type faster ;-) **

**Yet more angst…**

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><p>"Wakey, wakey, rise and shine," sing songs a mocking voice as Harry's eyes flicker open for the first time in hours. "Our time is coming to an end, Harry, so I've had to speed the process up a little bit. I think you'll find your tongue a little looser now."<p>

"What have you done to me," Harry says, words slurring and running together. His eyes feel heavy but he forces them to remain open and tries to lift a hand to his face only to find that it feels too heavy for him to lift. Groggily he looks down at his arm and notices a thin plastic tube feeding in to a vein on the back of his hand. He follows the tube with his eyes and realises that he is being drip fed an unknown cocktail of drugs.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Harry," his captor says, unconvincingly. "Now, let's talk about Albany."

"S'fake. Worthless. Nothing left to say." He answers, trying hard to get his mouth and brain to work at the same time.

"Who else knows that it's a fake?"

"No one." Harry says tiredly as he decides to give in to the weariness he is feeling. At least if he's unconscious, he reasons, he can't tell them anything.

"Not even Ruth?" his tormentor asks, striking fear in to Harry's heart. "That got your attention I see," he says, mockingly, as he watches Harry's eyes open wide. It looks like there's some fight in him yet.

"She doesn't know anything," Harry answers, honestly, having weighed his options up. "I never told her it wasn't real."

"I know," the voice purrs, "she seemed a little shocked when I mentioned it. Don't worry though; one of my men is comforting her as we speak."

Harry's reaction is swift and a sudden burst of energy springs forth as he moves to sit up. He's stopped in his tracks by masked goons swooping from the darkness and pinning him back down against the mattress. "If you've hurt her, in any way, I'm going to kill you," he vows, softly, struggling as much as he can against his burly oppressors.

"Promises, promises, Harry."

He sees the needle again and knows he doesn't have much time. He does the only thing he can think of and shouts her name over and over. He uses every ounce of strength and energy left in him to call for her, hoping that, wherever she is, she can hear his voice and take comfort in it. What he doesn't realise, as he slips in to unconsciousness, is that he's played right in to their hands.

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><p><strong>More to come as soon as it's typed…<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

***fastens seat belt* It's about to get very rough. Eeep. **

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><p>"We have to stop meeting like this, Ruth," the voice teases, "people will say we're in love." Ruth's only visible reaction is the flaring of her nostrils thanks to the gag that is tied firmly in place across her mouth. "Now, are you going to behave yourself or do I need to keep the gag on?"<p>

She fixes him with a death stare before shaking her head slightly. The gag is starting to cut into the soft flesh at the side of her mouth and she's grateful when one of her minders unties it from behind her.

"Time is running out Ruth," he tells her, firmly, "for you. For Harry." He pauses and lets her think about what that means. "I don't know if I mentioned it or not but Harry's not too well, I'm afraid." The glee hidden beneath the faux concern in his voice churns her stomach and she thinks that if he carries on she might be sick. "He put up a bit of a fight, more than was expected really, but now he's in a lot of pain. You can end his suffering, Ruth." She can feel the panic and the nausea starting to rise in her and grips the seat of her chair tightly between her fingers to try and stem the flow of it.

"Would you like to see him?" she's asked, after a tense minute.

"Yes," she whispers, "yes please."

"Very well then."

The door opens and her breath catches at the thought that he might be being led in. She closes her eyes and prepares herself to see him, to look in to his warm, familiar eyes once more, only to be heartbroken when she opens them and finds an open laptop on the table in front of her instead of Harry. There's an eerie familiarity to this scenario and she can't help but think of what happened the last time she was in this kind of situation. The blank screen flickers slightly and then, suddenly, a grainy image appears on screen. A red light flashes in the corner of the screen signalling that the feed is recording live. At first it's hard to make out exactly what is being shown, the lighting is dim and there's not a lot of movement going on but after a few seconds her eyes adjust to the footage and she can finally see him. He's laid on a mattress in the corner, barely moving, one hand rests across his chest as if he's just asleep but the other hand is what concerns her most. The plastic tube leads from his hand and wends its way to a drip which is hooked up above him. "Oh Harry," she whispers, hand automatically rising to her mouth.

"Just talk to me, Ruth. Tell me what I want to know and this can all end."

Her head is shaking from side to side, her eyes wide with disbelief that this is happening to her. To _them_. "I can't." She watches with horror as a masked goon turns to the camera and waves a syringe in the air before taking a step towards where Harry is laid.

"Save him, Ruth," he orders, "Save him."

Her eyes never leave the screen and she watches in horror as Harry suddenly moves and is pinned back against the mattress by more burly men that have stepped out of the shadows to assist their colleague. The man with the syringe is almost upon him when he begins to shout for her. She can hear the panic and fear in his voice as he calls her name and it is almost her undoing. What follows is heart wrenching and vile. Tears spill silently down her cheeks as she sees it all happen in slow motion, the struggle, the injection and then, almost instantly, it's over. The silence that follows is deafening and before she can think to breathe her vision turns black and she passes out.

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><p><strong>I'm planning on some nice fluff to make it up to Ruth, and you lot, after this is all finished!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry for the slight delay, I had a melt down and hated the original draft of this chapter. Thanks again for the great reviews, they really are encouraging and I appreciate every single one.**

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><p>Consciousness pulls at her, dragging her from the dark oblivion that has been her companion. She wishes she could forget but is instantly haunted by visions of Harry writhing in fear and panic as he was held down against the mattress. His voice echoes loudly in her head and the guilt and pain that rises to the surface with it is enough to force her eyes open and wake fully.<p>

She blinks rapidly against the harsh light and thinks she must still be in the interrogation room but, as she turns her head to the side trying to relieve some of the glare from her eyes, she realises she is mistaken. There is no interrogation room. Not here anyway. She's in a bed with side railings and next to it there is a small, nondescript, wooden locker. A jug of water rests on top of it, next to a plastic glass. There's a machine next to it full of re-assuring squiggles that she understands to mean that she is alive. Now that she's noticed it, she hears the steady beep of the monitor against the backdrop of the hustle and bustle of the outside corridor. Somewhere close by, a phone is ringing. Confusion reigns in her mind as she tries to work out if she's dreaming or not.

Her eyes settle on the door. It's open. A shift against the pillows allows her to see through the doorway out into the corridor. She watches a nurse talk on the phone and then scribble something down on a chart in front of her. There is no-one guarding her door. No-one seems the slightest bit interested in her room, or the occupant inside, which is a stark contrast to the ordeal she has just been through. She can't decide if this is a trick, some sort of elaborate hoax by her captors to mess with her mind even more than they already have done. The more she thinks about it the more she doesn't want to hang around to find out if it is really a hospital or if things have gone from bad to decidedly worse.

The thought enters her mind to escape, to slip out quietly whilst no-one is looking and she wills herself in to action. She leans over carefully and switches the monitor screen off before carefully unhooking herself from it. There is a brief struggle with the plastic tube feeding in to a cannula on the back of her other hand as her fingers refuse to work but, eventually, she co-ordinates them enough to set herself free. Her legs push their way out of the tangle of sheets and blanket and in seconds her bare feet meet the cold floor. She eases herself up on to decidedly wobbly legs, breathing hard from the effort. She allows herself a moment to rest and gather her thoughts and then she is moving. She shuffles purposely to the door, checks the coast is clear and then slips out into the corridor unseen. Adrenalin and sheer force of will push her on, giving her the energy to put one foot in front of the other and walk away from the nightmare she has somehow escaped from. The exit sign is within her view and she quickly notes the location of the stairwell and the lifts as she bypasses them and heads in the opposite direction. Her eyes flick up and read the sign above her head: _Men's Ward_. There's something she has to do first.

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><p><strong>Fear not, all shall be explained...soon!<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**Extra-long chapter as I just couldn't bear to split it. Only a couple of chapters left to go now. And, yes, Cbjfan61, her gown is fastened securely ;-) **

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><p>A muted voice coming from one of the rooms ahead captures her interest as she edges further down the corridor. She's still wary of her surroundings but as she focuses more some of the fog lifts from her brain and she is now reasonably sure that she is in a proper hospital. She pauses close to the door of the next room along the corridor, it's the first one she has come to that is partially open and she waits to see if she can hear the voice again. There is a long moment of silence and then she hears a voice that makes her knees go weak with relief. It's Harry. She blinks away the tears that have suddenly clouded her vision and lets the sound of him wash over her.<p>

"Say that again; Richard," she hears him say, quietly, "because it sounded to me like you just said that I'd been kidnapped and tortured by my own colleagues."

"That's not quite how I'd put it but, yes, essentially, that's what happened." Ruth's eyes widen in disbelief as she recognises the DG's voice. Her breath catches in her throat at the shock of what she's just heard, she feels as if someone has knocked all the air out of her body and has to reach out and hold onto the doorframe for support. Unaware of their audience the DG carries on regardless. "Harry, you and I both know that your judgement has been compromised, shall we say, of late," he straightens his tie and fixes Harry with a superior look, "this _exercise_ was designed to test your loyalty and commitment to the service."

"_Exercise_," Harry repeats, dangerously.

"You passed, Old Boy, no need to look so glum about it."

"My leg is fractured in two places, Richard," he gestures at his leg suspended in a cast angrily, before carrying on in a low, menacing voice, "I was injected with God only knows what and to top it all off some bastard intimated that Ruth Evershed was being raped in a nearby cell as I lay helpless so you'll forgive me if I'm more than a bit pissed off."

Dolby raises his hand to curtail any further angry complaints and swiftly launches into a matter of fact explanation. "The leg was regrettable, Harry. You put up a bit more of a fight than was expected," he flashes Harry a wry smile, "The officers were a little naïve in their assessment of your level of threat. The injections were merely a careful mixture of painkillers and sedatives, we didn't want you to suffer unnecessarily, of course, and Miss Evershed was perfectly safe. In fact, she held up very well throughout her interrogation. So, you see, there's nothi-"

His head snaps up instantly and his eyes blaze with untold fury as he looks at the other man. "Dickie," Harry interrupts, fighting hard to keep his composure, "tell me Ruth wasn't part of this exercise."

"Don't be stupid, Harry, of course she was. The release of Albany was a grave error of judgement on your part and it caused all sorts of problems. No-one was certain what she knew about it or what she had discussed with John Bateman. He could have told her all manner of things and then there was _you_. We couldn't rule out that you might have discussed Albany, or any number of state secrets with her, who knows what sort of pillow talk the two of you indulged in. She could have been a very real threat to national security."

Harry is about to explode with anger when the door to his room is suddenly thrown open causing both men to turn their attention to the doorway. Ruth stands there, hospital gown billowing slightly from the sudden movement, her hair is matted together in clumps, there is a large purple bruise on her cheek and her eyes are fizzing with anger and betrayal. Harry has admired her many times but he doesn't think he's ever seen her looks as glorious as she does right now.

"The only threat I pose right now is to your health," Ruth growls, angrily, at the DG.

"Miss Evershed," Richard Dolby begins, placatingly, "I can understand your anger but, really, this is neither the time or the place to discuss it. There'll be a full debrief-"

"No there won't," she spits, daring him to contradict her. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Protocol must be followed, Ruth, before you can return to your post. Surely you understand that?"

She glowers at him as she remembers what it felt like to be in that interrogation room. What it felt like to believe that she had been the cause of Harry's pain and suffering. "Fuck you."

Harry hasn't taken his eyes off her since she arrived; he can see the pain and distress written across her face and wants nothing more than to erase it. "I think you'd better leave, Richard, before I'm forced to get out of this bed and give you a thrashing," he warns, glaring daggers at the other man.

"Very well, then," Dolby says, stiffly before sweeping past Ruth and leaving them alone.

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><p><strong>If you're not very angry at me for the ruse then a review would be lovely!<strong>

**NB: I also couldn't decide if it was Dolby or Dalby...if it's wrong an offends you let me know and I'll change it!  
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	14. Chapter 14

**A huge thank you for all the reviews of the previous chapter, it was lovely to see that you enjoyed the twist in the story and, as ever, it encouraged me to write a little bit more. I fear this is the last chapter, I might be tempted into a sort of epilogue if there's a demand for it but the chances are quite slim as this is where my notes end! **

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><p>They stare at one another silently across the hospital room until Ruth pushes herself forwards and comes to a stop at his bedside. He turns his head to the side, not wanting to miss a moment of their time together, and she gasps loudly at the sight of the bruising that was mostly hidden from her view. Most of the swelling has receded now and in its place a myriad of green and purple bruises cover one side of his face.<p>

"Oh God, Harry," she whispers, brokenly, as her fingers reach out and lightly trace the curve of his injured cheek, "What have they done to you?"

"It looks worse than it is," he lies, trying to reassure her. He shuffles slightly and then raises a hand to her chin, using his thumb and forefinger to turn her face to the side so he can get a better look at her swollen cheek. "Still beautiful," he utters, as the tip of his index finger runs lightly over her damaged skin. His gentle caress is her undoing and the tears that have been clouding her eyes since she stepped close to him tumble down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she chokes, between sobs, "I am _so_ sorry." Her hand clutches at her chest and she tries to calm herself enough to explain; to tell him what she did. Her confession comes out between heartfelt sobs and a hundred tears that tell him of her sorrow. She's barely coherent but he knows enough for him to piece together the whole sorry tale. He looks at the woman he loves slowly unravelling in front of him and does the only thing he can think of and takes her in his arms.

"Hey, hey shhhh, shhhh now," he croons in to her hair, holding on to her tightly, "it's ok, Ruth, it's ok."

"It's not Ok, Harry," she says abruptly, wrenching herself out of his arms, "Don't you see? I had a chance to save you and I didn't!"

Harry looks at her seriously for a moment before his eyes soften and a small smile appears on his face. "That's my girl," he whispers, proudly.

"What?" she asks blankly, confused by his reaction.

"So strong. So brave," he says softly, as one hand reaches out and cups her face gently, "my Ruth."

"Harry-"

"I love you," he says, cutting off whatever she was about to say, "And that's all that matters."

"Is it?" she breathes, hope tingeing her words.

He smiles and pulls her face down to his, so close that she can feel his warm breath tickling her lips. "Yes." His nose bumps against hers and then, ever so slowly, he leans in and kisses her.

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><p><strong>That's All Folks! <strong>

**A final review would be greatly appreciated. **


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